


The Imperials

by TheCapaldianEmpress01



Category: Mathew Baynton - Fandom
Genre: Empires - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Kingdoms, M/M, Smut, and loads of it, but also actual loving relationships, consorts etc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 06:43:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCapaldianEmpress01/pseuds/TheCapaldianEmpress01
Summary: Horrible, awful things happen in the Darkmoor Empire. There have been two purges of what are known as The Abominations...and, Mathew is one of them. He survives as an escort in the small kingdom of Teralyre.  He views the Nobility, as well as the Imperial family, much the same way.Evil. Vile. Ruthless.But what happens when the Heir to the Imperial Throne pays him a visit?And, offers him a better, safer, life?





	1. Shadows Fall-The Beginning of the Purge

**Author's Note:**

> Well, as always, this is a work of fiction. You know what to do if you don't like this sort of thing.
> 
> The character, Mathew, is based on the look of Dick Turpin from the CBBC show, Horrible Histories...brought to life by the gorgeous Mathew Baynton. The character is in no way, shape or form, a representation of Mr. Baynton in real life.
> 
> Also, this is historical fan fiction...alternate universe...steampunk-ish. The story takes place mostly in the 17th and 18th centuries, and ends roughly in the early 19th.
> 
> I do not own Mathew Baynton, nor do I own Horrible Histories. I'm just a huge fan of both. No offense is intended.

 

Twilight had come and gone, leaving in its place, an eerie, deep blackness over the Imperial Empire of Darkmoor.

Somewhere outside the gates of a small village, the sound of ironshod hooves, and ironclad boots reverberated in the stillness. 

Nothing stirred from within the village of Teralyre.

The horses and men continued on until they reached the gates. 

Here they waited.

Moments later, a shrill whistle broke the silence of the night. 

The village slept on.

Fifteen or so blackclad men broke from the main group, swords drawn, and made their way through the open gates. They separated once inside, each taking up a strategic position round the sleeping village. Once this had been accomplished, the remaining men and horses moved in.

They waited.

Another whistle broke the silence once more. 

Seconds later, chaos and death rained down on the village of Teralyre. The inhabitants did not stand a chance against the onslaught. Those who somehow survived, later told of a massacre that happened so quickly, they knew not what it was, until it was over.

Thousands dead.

Whole villages decimated.

An Empire in chaos.

It was worse than the Plague had ever been.

The atrocities perpetrated were numerous.

The victims were all the same.  
Young…

Male…

Feminine.

They were, as it always goes in such horrors, those who did not fit the idea of what a male should be.

They were the escorts.

They were the prostitutes.

The witches.

The ones who loved men and women...loved men…

They were the most beautiful, the most feminine.

They were the Abominations.

And, they could not be allowed to live.

The Purge had begun.


	2. Eighteen Years Later-Mathew

 

Teralyre.

The village fete was in full swing that morning. The day was bright and sunny, a bit balmy, and terribly windy. Everyone, from the smallest child, to the eldest of elders, was enjoying the fete. Eating, drinking and making merry. It was picture perfect.

But, there was one who did not enjoy these sorts of things, and he kept himself as far apart from it as he could. It was just what it was. He had nothing against his friends and neighbours enjoying themselves, it just wasn’t for him. And besides, he wouldn’t be needed at the fete. At least, not for the normal activities. His kind were for other amusements.

So, on this particular day, he was sat at the long bar, in the dimly lit Wolf and Raven pub, listening to the sounds of the fete, and trying to drink himself into oblivion. It would help for later...it always did. The more he drank, the less he would feel later...later, when yet another wealthy nobleman would be crushing him into a mattress, or up against a wall…

Gin and tonic.

Whiskey.

Ale.

It all helped.

To feel nothing.

He sat staring at nothing in particular, a wine glass clutched in hand…

...feel nothing…

Today, and every day, he was exceptionally beautiful. His long legs were clad in tight black leather, showing off the soft curves, and the roundness of his ass. On his feet, he wore knee high, six inch heeled, black leather boots....they were the sort that tied and buckled all the way up, and hugged his calves tightly. The rest of his attire consisted of a loose fitting, white poet’s blouse that, depending on which way he moved, if it were tied, or if he happened to not be wearing the usual cravat, would slide seductively off his shoulder. 

On his perfect head, was long, wavy black hair. Most of it was tied back with a red ribbon, but the rest was parted to either side, and framed his angular, pale, yet exoticly beautiful face. The deep, dark chocolate brown of his black kohl rimmed eyes added to the exotic beauty.  
He was beautiful.

He was exotic.

Erotic.

The Gods had come together to make this beauty. According to many the noblemen, and quite often, noblewomen, he was the appetime of what beautiful should be. He was highly paid, and equally valued, for his services. Because of this perfection, he could pick and choose from the disgustingly wealthy men(and women)who bought him. They never refused him anything.

They could not refuse him.

His name was Mathew. 

His surname had fallen by the wayside years ago. If he had remembered it, he would not have used it. A first name was all he needed. 

...feel nothing…

He drained the wineglass, pushed it towards the looming barkeep, and gestured towards the row of bottles that sat against the mirrored wall.

...feel nothing…

The barkeep grinned faintly.

“G and T, Mathew darling?”

Mathew nodded.

“The usual way?”

“No, stronger.”

For a moment, the barkeep stared at him.

“Are you sure?”

Mathew’s eyes narrowed a bit.

‘Yes, I’m sure.”

...feel nothing…

The barkeep mixed the drink, poured it into a large tumbler, and pushed it towards Mathew. He shook his head slowly, as the glass was drained in one go, and shoved back towards him. He refilled it dutifully.

“Darling, are you sure drinking so much is such a good idea?”

One dark, eloquently shaped eyebrow arched in reply.

The barkeep shook his head again.

“Mathew…”

“Don’t Mathew me, Jornah.”

“Darling…”

Mathew’s dark eyes narrowed.

...feel nothing…

“Leave it, Jornah.”

Jornah, the barkeep, sighed loudly and nodded.

“Fine, it’s your funeral, Mathew.”

Mathew gifted this statement with a smirk.

“Mmm, perhaps some day it will be, but that day, is not today.”

Jornah grinned.

“Still, slow down a bit on the alcohol…”

Mathew laughed softly.

“I can’t.”

“Darling, please…”

Again, he laughed.  
“I’ve told you time and again, Jornah, the alcohol helps…”

Jornah sighed, but said nothing.

“I don’t want to feel...anything...if I can’t feel what they are doing to my body, I survive…”

“Mathew…” Jornah pleaded.

“The day I feel anything, is the day I die completely.”

There was a long, drawn out silence between them. Finally, Mathew arched an eyebrow, and smiled slowly.

“Leave it, Jornah.”

The barkeep shook his head, wiped at his eyes, and huffed slightly.

“I don’t know why I worry over you so much, Mathew.”

Mathew chuckled.

“Because you love me?”

“Hardly, darling.” 

“Oh how you wound me, love! You worry, because you care. You might be the only one who does, but you care for me, and that’s all that matters, yeah.”

Jornah smiled.

“Aye, I do.”

“Told you so.” Mathew leaned forward, placing his thin, eloquent hands on the bar. Head down, and with a slight tilt, he looked up at Jornah seductively. His brown eyes sparkled in the dim lamplight.

“Mathew, you know better!” Jornah blushed a deep red.

“Mmmm, perhaps I do, but…” He trailed a finger lightly over the blushing barkeep’s hand. “I do like to play. Besides, you enjoy it.” 

Jornah coughed, blushing still more, as Mathew’s finger now stroked his cheek.

“Mathew darling, I’m a married man! For the love of the Gods, have mercy!”

Mathew sat back on the bar chair, his finger now curling a long strand of his hair. He studied Jornah for a moment, then smiled wickedly.

“Yes, I know you are.” The wickedness of his smile grew. “I think both you and Dominic, would enjoying having me.”

Jornah blushed even redder at this.

“Mathew, stop..”

“No.”

“Please...you can’t keep doing this!”

“Oh, but I can. Just imagine all the possibilities!”

Jornah shifted behind the bar.

“Stop it, Mathew…”

The object of Jornah’s torment, simply smiled sweetly at him, and continued.

“You, me and Dominic. All tangled up in your bed...skin on skin...bodies slick with sweat...me,” he paused for added dramatic affect, “Moaning your names, rubbing my body against yours...letting you take me, both of you, over and over again…”

Jornah’s eyes widened. He was trembling visibly. 

“How fucking dare you!”

Mathew giggled softly.

“I’m always fucking…” he paused again. “...daring.”

Jornah huffed, shoved one bottle of gin, and another of tonic, at Mathew, and retreated to the other end of the bar. He glared at him reproachfully. 

Mathew laughed, fixed another drink, and sat back in the chair. Shifting a bit, he recrossed his legs, one booted foot bouncing slightly, and sipped the drink leisurely. He had plenty of time before his first customer of the evening.

...feel nothing…

Several hours later, Mathew returned to the pub, taking up his customary spot at the end of the bar where he could people watch.

Jornah stayed clear of him, shoving the bottle of gin at him, and fading into the background. He still hadn’t gotten over the episode from earlier, and at that moment, despite all his feeble protests, he wanted nothing more than to fuck Mathew silly.

So he kept his distance, and groused in silence.

Four gin and tonics later, Mathew had ceased his usual people watching, and instead, had turned his attention to the village newsheet that lay abandoned on the bar. He was engrossed in the paper, when the pub door suddenly banged open. The few patrons within, turned at the noise, ready to harass the idiot who had interrupted their quiet drinking. 

Instead, an odd silence met the newcomer.

Mathew turned in his seat, and stared at them. They had yet to lower the hood of their cloak, and for one tense moment, they remained a mystery. He went back to the paper.

He turned again, when two black cloaked men appeared in the doorway. They moved into the pub,and positioned themselves to either side of the hooded figure. They carried long staffs, sharpened at the ends, and heavy broadswords were strapped to their hips. Minutes ticked by, before either of the heavily armed men spoke.

“You will stand for Her Highness, the Imperial Grand Duchess!”

Several of the patrons nearly fell out of their chairs in their haste to stand. Mathew sat still, hoping they’d not notice him.

Two leather gloved hands reached up and drew back the hood of the cloak, finally revealing the mystery.

“By the Gods!” Mathew heard Jornah groan from behind the bar. 

Mathew looked at him in confusion.

Jornah came towards him,and leaned in to whisper.

“Darling, are you so out of it, that you don’t even know who our reigning Imperial Family is?!”

Mathew’s eyes narrowed.  
Jornah shook his head in frustration.

“Mathew, you beauty, she is the Imperial Grand Duchess! Heir to the fucking throne of Darkmoor!”

Mathew shrugged, the loose blouse sliding off his shoulder.

“She’s the fucking Emperor’s sister!” Jornah hissed quietly at Mathew.

“Oooohhhh!” Mathew’s eyes widened.

There had been a chattering of voices, scraping of chairs on the stone floor, and rousing choruses of welcome to the Heir Apparent. 

Now, suddenly there was a heavy silence that filled the pub. Mathew turned to look at Jornah. The barkeep’s eyes had gone as wide as saucers, and his mouth hung open in utter surprise.

“Jornah? Hello, love!”

Mathew waved a hand in front of Jornah’s face. Jornah pointed directly behind the confused escort.

Mathew grinned, and turned to see what the barkeep had been pointing at. 

He came face to face with the Grand Duchess.

And, before he could say anything, she smiled slowly.

“I have a proposition for you.”


	3. The Fates Will Out

Jornah stood staring at the back of Mathew’s head, a single thought winding through his mind.

‘What could the Imperial Grand Duchess want with a prostitute?’

Just as with Mathew, the Duchess was absurdly beautiful. The long blood red hair, the emerald green eyes, the long, shapely legs and a body most women, and quite a few men, would kill for. She carried herself regally, with an all encompassing air about her. She commanded respect,and recieved it in spades. Men and women fell over themselves just to get to her. They’d have given their lives, for just one night with her.

Still, Jornah couldn’t help but wonder why she needed the services of a male prostitute. Even if it was the delicious Mathew, why?

Why, indeed.

He watched as she took off one black leather glove and reached for Mathew’s chin. She grasped it gently, turning his head this way and that, studying his face intently. When she seemed satisfied by what she saw, she released him.

The Duchess looked about her for a moment, turned to one of the men, and spoke in a low whisper. He nodded, bowed and left the pub quickly. The other man moved to one end of the bar, eyeing the remaining patrons steadfastly. The Duchess seized the chair closest to Mathew, easing into it with as much grace as she could muster. She waited for a brief moment, before reaching into a pouch at her waist.

She slapped five large coins down on the bar in front of Mathew, gesturing at them lazily.

Both Matthew and Jornah’s eyes widened at the sight of the coins.

By the Gods, those were Imperial Sestaris! One alone, was worth ten thousand! And, on the bar, directly in front of Mathew, lay five of them.

Fifty thousand Sestaris in Imperial currency just laying there.

The Duchess chuckled softly.

“How much do you consider your services worth, my dear?” She leaned back in the chair, her emerald gaze on Mathew.

“I’ve never really given it much thought, Your Highness.” 

“Oh come now, how much would a repeat customer pay you an Annum?”

Mathew cocked his head slightly,and thought about it.

“Certainly not fifty thousand Sestaris.”

“No?” The Duchess grinned. 

“No.” Mathew shook his head.

She seemed disgusted by his answer, her grin faded quickly and was replaced by a deep scowl.

“They’re cheating you, my dear. And, most dreadfully at that.” She loosened the pouch at her waist, and in one swift motion, dumped its contents onto the bar. Dozens of coins clinked against each other as they fell.

“This,” the Duchess murmured, “is what I believe you are worth.”

Mathew stared at the huge pile of coins.

“How much is that?”

“Three hundred and fifty thousand Sestaris.” she said.

Jornah nearly fainted at the price. That was more than he would see in three Annums! He knew for certain, despite how beautiful Mathew was, despite the services he offered, even he would never see that amount.

The noblemen, though wealthy, would never, no matter how mindblowing the sex with Mathew was, give him that kind of money. It was unthinkable.

Mathew stared at her thoughtfully for a moment.

“And, you think I’m worth this amount of currency?”

The Duchess nodded.

“I do.”

“Do you know exactly what I am?”

“I do.”

Mathew grinned.

“And, that doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all. Why should it?” She leaned towards him, smiling.

Mathew stared at her.

“No offense, Your Highness, but you’re a member of the Imperial Family. I’m a prostitute…”

“I know you are.”

“I have sex for coin.”

She cut him off abruptly.

“I know this. Men fuck you. You fuck women. They pay you for that service…”

Mathew inhaled deeply, his brow furrowing.

“Indeed.”

“In my opinion, they pay you a pittance for it, too! They cheat you, come back for more, and cheat you over and over again! If any of it offends me, my dear, it is that. You are worthy of much more.”

He sighed and looked away.

“Be that as it may, I can do nothing about their cheating me.”

She studied him sadly.

“Why is that?”

Mathew laughed shrilly.

“They are the Nobility! I am a fucking prostitute! I am a nobody! I have no rights, no laws to protect me against them. If I so much as uttered a wrong word against them, I would have a rope around my neck! If I demanded more coin then they are willing to part with...again, I would have a rope around my neck…”

She seemed taken back by this outburst, yet she allowed him to continue.

“I am an abomination. I shouldn’t exist, yet here I am. The Nobility pay to fuck me, despite the fact that they believe in the Purge…you most likely are one of them. My kind died horrible deaths because of those like you.”

The Duchess’s face drained of all colour at this. 

“How dare you!” She snarled angrily at him. “You dare to compare me, or my family, to those evil, vile monsters?! You know nothing about me!”

“And you, Your Highness, know nothing about me.” Mathew’s jaw clenched tightly.

She sat back in the chair, fingers drumming on the wood of the bar, glaring at him. After awhile, a slow smile curled her full lips upward, and leaning forward, she trailed her fingers along his cheek.

“Perhaps, my beautiful god, we should get to know each other better? After all, I still have a proposition to make.”

Mathew grinned.

“Perhaps we should, Your Highness.”

“Is there a place we can do so? A place that would be more, private?”

He nodded.

“I have a small flat above the pub. It’s not much, just one large room with a desk, table, two chairs. And,” here he paused before continuing. “A large bed. It’s quite private, no one will disturb us.” He glanced at Jornah, who had yet to stop staring at the pile of coins. “Jornah here, will see to that, won’t you love?”

Jornah shuddered.

“Of course! Yes darling, no one will disturb you.” 

“Good.” The Duchess reached into yet another leather pouch on her belt, rummaged round in it, before pulling out another Sestari. She flipped it at Jornah, who having finally looked up, caught it easily in his large hand. “Three bottles of your finest wine, and two glasses to imbibe it in.”

Jornah stared at the coin in disbelief.

“Your Highness, this would buy many, many bottles of wine…”

She chuckled softly.

“This I know, my friend. Three bottles will do, the remaining amount is for your trouble.”

Jornah nodded quickly.

“Thank you kindly, I’m sure.”

She nodded in reply, then turned her attention back to Mathew. She stood up from the chair, and held out a slender hand to him.

“Shall we?”

At first, he didn’t move, but soon he slid from his seat, and took her hand. The man, her guard, trundled towards them from his place at the end of the bar...she motioned at the three bottles of wine and the two glasses. The man retrieved them, waiting for her next command.

She smiled at Mathew.

“Lead on, my beautiful god.” 

He inclined his head towards a slightly hidden door to the side of the bar.

“This way.” 

“Lead on.”

He walked ahead of her, and as he did, she studied his shapely body. The movement of his hips enthralled her. The way his body moved...sinful...erotic...the way the tight leather hugged his ass, his long legs…all of it sent a shiver along her spine, and an all too familiar tingling between her legs. Even the soft lilt of his voice caused her to tremble.

It had been such a long time between lovers.

Such a very, very long time.

He led her through the door and up a small set of stairs. They turned down a short passageway, following it to the end, where they stopped at a beat up door. The guard who followed with the wine and glasses, paused. Mathew glanced at him, and pointed to the floor, where the guard deposited them,and retreated back the way they had come. Mathew reached up to the lantern that hung outside the door, feeling deftly behind the iron casing to pull out a key. He inserted it into the lock, turned it, and shoved the door open. He stepped aside, to let her in, and followed after her. The door slammed shut with a slight kick from his foot. He groaned in frustration, having remembered the wine left outside, opened the door again, and retrieved the bottles and glasses. He slammed the door shut once more.

The Duchess stood silently in the center of the room watching him in amusement.

“You are quite beautiful.” She said, looking him up and down, as he made his way over to her. “I do so enjoy a pretty face.”

Mathew shrugged, setting the bottles,along with the two glasses, down on the small table.

“So do I.” 

She laughed.

“Mmmm, this should prove to be a rather pleasant evening,then.” 

“Mathew smiled.

“Oh, I do hope so, Your Highness.” He picked up one of the bottles,gesturing at the glasses.

She nodded her elegant head at this.

“A glass, or two, to help us loosen up a bit. To help our tongues speak of ourselves.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Is that all it will help with?” 

She moved to stand in front of him, her black cloak and gloves thrown over the back of a chair. She put a finger to his lips,and smiled warmly at him.

“That, my beautiful god, is entirely up to you. Where this goes from this moment...well, we shall see, won’t we?”

“Oh, yes…”

“But first, my name…”

Mathew grinned.

“Yes, I can’t just keep calling you, ‘Your Highness…’” He poured out two glasses of dark red wine. Handing her one, he looked at her, a small wicked smile playing at his lips. 

“Especially, when we’re fucking. Rather formal for such an act, don’t you think.” He took a long drink from his glass, leaned back against the table, and…

...gifted her with a very sinful lip bite.

She shuddered visibly.

“Ivyanna. Imperial...er…”

Another bite of the lip. A lock of black hair twirled round a finger.

Mathew smiled wickedly at her.

The tingling between her legs was maddening now.

“Get to know each other, yeah...but first…”

Head down, slight tilt. He looked up at her, his dark chocolate brown eyes glittered in the light from the hearth fire.

“Kiss me.”

She stared at him.

His smile grew more wicked.

More sin filled.

“Yes...Ivyanna, Imperial Grand Duchess of Darkmoor…”

She trembled again.

“The gods know I desire to…”

He set his glass down, he leaned back on his hands, legs crossed, and waited for her.

“I know. Kiss me, my goddess, and kiss me like you mean it.”

She moved closer. She placed her hands on the table on either side of his legs, leaning in quickly to meet his soft, smooth lips. For one heartbeat, she was so close, he could almost taste her mouth.

Then, she jumped backwards away from him, as if he were fire and she about to be burned.  
Mathew stared at her.

“Something wrong, Duchess?”

Ivyanna cursed angrily.

“The gods know how badly I want to crush your mouth with mine! Oh how they know! It cannot be...not just yet…”

Mathew grinned faintly.

“And, why not? I know you want me...I can see it in your eyes.”

She cursed more.

“Yes, yes...so you know! This is not how it should be.”

“Do tell, love. Tell me just how it actually should be.” One elegant eyebrow arched upwards in amusement. “How does the Imperial Duchess capture a mate?”

Ivyanna shook her head vigourously. A long lock of blood red hair fell over one eye. She smoothed it back into place with a shaking hand.

“I need to know you first. You need to know me. You need to understand who I am, what I stand for, where I come from. The same for you...I want to know who you are, what you stand for, and where you come from. If this is not done, the proposition I wish to make to you, will be meaningless.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” she spat out.

Mathew slid forward on the table, uncrossed his legs, and looked at her thoughtfully. 

“Well then, Duchess...my trembling goddess...let’s get to know each other…”

“And?” she narrowed her emerald eyes at him.

He laughed softly.

“After that?” he shrugged, as he refilled their wine glasses. “We’ll let the Fates determine that.”

Ivyanna nodded.

“And then, my proposition?”

“Yes, but we’ll get to that soon enough, love.” His dark gaze looked her over carefully. “Get to know each other like proper Nobility.”

She laughed suddenly.

“Proper Nobility?! Oh my darling you are precious! How utterly absurd! Nothing proper about either of us, I should think.”

“I concur with that statement, my Duchess.” 

Ivyanna looked round the small, one room flat. He noticed her looking at the large four poster bed, then at the two chairs. 

“Ah love, to get to know each other, we’ll sit at the table, drinking our wine, and being most proper. We can be terribly improper in that bed later...and, by improper, I mean sinful.”

She nodded quickly, grabbed the chair closest to her, and dropped into it. She motioned for him to do the same. 

When he had done so, she propped her elbows on the table, chin in one hand, and exhaled loudly.

Mathew laughed at this.

“Oh! What a dignified Duchess!”

“What do you mean? I am dignified!”

He giggled.

“You’ve your elbows propped on my table, looking nothing like a Duchess at all!” He giggled again. “Still, you are a beautiful woman, despite looking like you’ve not slept in days.”

She shrugged, nudging his hand playfully.

“Perhaps, I shall sleep better tonight?”

“Tsk, tsk, Duchess. Know each other first.” He nudged her hand back, and tilted his head towards her. “So, what do you wish to know about me?”

“You tell me. Tell me the story about who Mathew is.”

“Not much to tell, really. My name is Mathew. No surname to speak of, being as I don’t recall what it actually is. And, even if I did remember it, I wouldn’t use it…”

Ivyanna nodded.

“My proposition can change that.”

Mathew eyed her questioningly.

“We’ll get to that later.” He took a long drink from his glass before he continued.

“As for my age, I’m not entirely clear on it, but if I’m guessing, I’m about seven and twenty Annums. The date of my birth...again, it’s not clear. I just picked a date I liked, and there you have it.”

“And that would be?”

“The first day of the Winter Solstice.”

“Ah, you chose a special day.”

He nodded.

“Yes. Anyway, no idea where I’m actually from, though a few have said it could be Thalia. That’s a kingdom just to the North of Darkmoor…”

“I know of it…” Her tone had turned dark at the mention of the name. He ignored it, and went on with his story.

“My Fathers claim that I’m from Thalia, as well. They adopted me when I was quite young…”

“Oh?” Ivyanna mused.

“Yes. The story being, that my original family abandoned me to my fate when they realised just exactly what I would be. I am a male in body, but very much female in everything else. That was something they could not abide by, so they threw me out. Julian, he’s my elder Father, said I was found wandering round the woods one night. They just couldn’t let me out there...it was a stormy night, so they, he and my younger Father, Ash, took me in, eventually adopting me as their son. Ash has told me I was terribly young, possibly in my fourteenth Annum. Even then, I was considered very beautiful.”

He paused to refill their glasses a third time. He inhaled deeply, took a sip from his glass, and hurried on.

“I was not made for servant’s work, so finding something to do was quite tricky. I’m sure you can see that, though I am male, farming and the like was definitely not for me. My Fathers gave me a thorough education...Latin, mathematics, prose, verse, all of that. They also educated me in the Old Ways…”

Ivyanna interrupted.

“You are Pagan?”

Mathew smiled.

“Indeed I am. The Gods put me in the woods for a reason...for my Fathers to find me, and to save me from a terrible fate…”

“The second Purge…” 

He nodded.

“That happened right after my original family abandoned me. Julian believes they were part of that, believed in it. Having a son who does not conform to what they believe he ought to be, does not look as he should, and is a lover of both men and women...well, abandonment was the only true option, and the Purge was the only true end for me.”

He stopped talking. His dark eyes stared off for a moment, then came to rest on her.

“I believe you know what takes place when one of my kind is caught during a Purge?”

She stared at him silently.

He inhaled deeply again.

“Had I been caught, my fate was thus...torture, rape, more torture, more rape. And, eventually, death. Not an easy death mind, but death nonetheless. An easy death would’ve been merciful...being hung until not quite dead, then raped repeatedly, and finally having your neck broken and flung into a pit to rot. That would’ve been my fate...my fate, because I am who I am...because I look as I do.”

“But, your Fathers saved you. That fate was never to be yours.”

Mathew sighed softly.

“True as that is, Ivyanna, my goddess, it may have not been my fate then, but you know as well as I do, there are still many out there who would gladly bring a third Purge to light. I am very well known amongst the Nobility...they are the ones who started everything.”

“Yet, they are the ones who buy you and your services…”

“They are.”

“Hmmm…” She tapped a long finger on the rim of her glass.

“They would hand me over to the torturers just as quickly as they would fuck me. Every day...every time I am with one of them, I wonder which of them will seduce me, fuck me, and then torture me. I live with that fear.”

“Is that why you drink as you do?” she asked.

Mathew nodded slowly.

“Yes. If I drink, I feel nothing...I feel nothing that they do to my body...no shame, no guilt, no emotion...nothing. It helps to keep my fear of that in check. It also, helps keep the night dreams at bay.”

“Of another Purge happening?”

He simply nodded and stared off again.

“So, despite being rescued and adopted, highly educated by your Fathers, with no true way to survive once you left them...how, by all the Gods, did you end up being a prostitute? What led you to that?”

“Well, I love both men and women. I found that out pretty early on...one of my teachers was of my kind, and he was stunning! I dreamed of him constantly. Of him making love to me, not just fucking me. I felt things then...I felt them terribly. He was my first lover...my first passionate desire...my first real love. But, it didn’t last…”

“What happened, my dear?”

“He was killed by one of his lovers, a Lord Harford, if I remember correctly…”

There was a deep snarl from the Duchess. Mathew looked up from his glass.

“Duchess?”

She glared darkly.

“I know that hideous, vile monster…”

“You do?” Mathew sat back and stared at her. “How?”

She glanced away for a moment, before looking back at him. 

“Perhaps, we should leave your story for the time being…”

“If you say so…”

 

“I think, now is the time for me to tell mine.” She shifted uneasily in the chair. “My name is Ivyanna Adia Duncannon, daughter of the late Emperor Adrian and his Consort, Prince Nicolai. My age is one and thirty Annums, born on Ostara. Imperial Grand Duchess, sister of Emperor Dane, and Prince Daniel. My grandfather, the late Emperor Lathium, ended the first Purge. My father, the second…”

Mathew eyed her curiously.

“They instituted the Inquisition of Darkmoor. My grandfather’s lover, and Consort, Prince Asad, was captured, tortured and killed during the first Purge. My youngest,and now deceased, brother, Prince Edward, was killed during the second…”

Mathew stared open mouthed at her.

“While doing battle against them?”

Ivyanna shook her head quickly.

“No.” she growled.

“But...why?”

“They were of your kind, Mathew…”

“I...oh…” he stammered.

“So you see, when you compared me and my family to those vile monsters, how it hurt me? Even the Imperial Family, was not safe from them and their disgusting Purge. My grandfather created the Inquisition to rid Darkmoor of this vermin. All was peaceful for awhile.Then it started up again...that was your point in the narrative,that is where you were...my grandfather, and father, avenged their family, and all those who died, during those dark times. I know that it can, will, happen again. I am Heir to the Imperial Throne of Darkmoor....

A lingering silence hung over the room.

“And, neither you, my love, or anyone else will die because of it.


	4. An Imperial Proposition

Two hours, and two bottles of wine, had passed. They had laughed, shouted, discussed, debated, cried, and soothed. Finally, the moment had come for the Duchess to state her intentions in regards to her visit to Teralyre.

Mathew watched her silently. 

She was Imperial. She was Royal. She an Heiress to a much coveted throne and, of course, the also much coveted wealth that went with it. Still, despite all of that, to Mathew she was much more. To him, she was unlike any Duchess he had ever known of. To him, she was ethereal. Heavenly and divine.

To Mathew, she was a goddess. He had decided this for certain, halfway thru the second bottle of wine. And, somewhere during the opening of the third, he had decided that he would, without hesitation, worship her.

Now, as he watched her more intently, he came to the realization that, even as he worshipped this ethereal goddess, he would never be worthy enough. He was a lowly prostitute.

He was an Abomination.

She looked up at him, a wry smile twitched at her lips.

“You are worthy enough, my dear. And more so, because you believe you are not.”

Mathew’s shock at this was clearly evident.

“How...I never…” His dark eyes were wide.

Ivyanna chuckled softly.

“Call it a gift. A curse. Call it anything you wish to call it.”

Mathew’s wide eyes narrowed slightly.

“Mind reading.”

“Oh nothing as simple as mere mind reading, Mathew! There’s so much more to it!”

He grinned. She came here to read minds?

The Duchess laughed coolly.

“Oh you beautiful god! I told you, it is nothing so simple as that! And, I most certainly didn’t come here to read minds, far from it.”

“What did you come here for?” He leaned forward to refill their glasses.

She watched him for a moment, then smiled slowly.

“Do you think tonight was the first that I laid eyes on you?”

“Well, I assumed it was.”

Her smiled faltered a bit.

“Do not make assumptions about anything I do, my dear. That mistake has led many down a path they dearly wished they had never chosen to follow.”

Mathew bowed his head slightly.

“I intended no offence, Your Highness.”

“None taken. Just don’t make assumptions about me, and it will save you much trouble later on.” She took a drink from her glass, set it down, and gazed at him. “Now, allow me to repeat my question. Do you think tonight was the first I laid eyes on you? No assumptions.”

He thought for a moment. When would an Imperial Grand Duchess have seen him? True, the coaches and carriages of the Imperial Palace went thru Teralyre often enough, they just never stopped. Only the Nobility came here, and they came for a very specific reason.

“I wouldn’t know, Your Highness.”

Another drink from her glass, a slight frown creased her lovely brow.

“Yes, our coaches do travel thru Teralyre often…”

Again, she had chosen to read his mind.

“...but, we have stopped a few times.”

He stared at her.

“Oh?”

She chuckled softly.

“Well now, the coaches and carriages haven’t, but lone riders have.”

“I’ve seen many a rider spend a night or two here. I should know, considering they more often than not, spent that same amount of time, either between my legs or behind me. But, I’ve never seen any member of the Imperial Family.”

Ivyanna huffed slightly.

“Mmm, but you have! In fact, if he is to be believed, and I do not doubt the word of my own brother, he spent a most blissful evening between your legs.”

Mathew’s eyes widened once more.

“Your brother?”

Her brother was the Emperor!

She laughed.

“No, no not that brother.”

“You’ve another brother?”

She laughed again, nodding.

“Indeed I do. That would be Prince Daniel that spent that blissful evening fucking you senseless.”

Mathew murmured softly.

“Oh gods…”

“And, of course, there was the Commander of the Imperial Praetorian Guard.”

“What?”

“Also another night of sinful pleasure between those shapely legs of yours. Commander Therian and I, travelled here so I could see for myself, this delicious beauty both he, and my brother, spoke so highly about.”

Mathew’s mouth moved, yet he could get no words out.

She reached over to stroke the back of his hand, a faint smile forming.

“You weren’t just delicious, you were glorious! I had seen very beautiful men before, but they did not compare to you.”

“Oh gods…” he moaned softly.

She gazed at him.

“Mmmm, I hope to hear you moaning that in a much different way,” she stroked his hand again. “With that, we have come to my proposition.”

Mathew nodded.

“And that, would be what exactly?”

“It would be quite simple, really. The three hundred and fifty thousand Sestaris that I brought…”

“Yes?”

“Would be to buy you, not your services. Those I shall have for free. No, I am buying you from the streets.” She took another drink of wine before continuing. “My proposition is simple. On the morrow, the Nobility shall no longer require your services. You will not be at their mercy any longer, my dear.”

He studied her briefly.

“Oh?”

“If you accept the proposition I make, filth that is the Nobility, will not be able to touch you ever again.”

He interrupted.

“Excuse me? How do you propose to keep them from doing so? They have the money to buy whatever they desire, and that, includes me.”

The Duchess laughed shrilly at this.

“Perhaps, I should state my proposition so that you understand more clearly?”

Mathew nodded.

“That would help.”

“Indeed. Now, the terms of the proposition are thus. I take you away from here, away from the vile touch of the Nobility. You would take up residence at the Imperial Palace as my Concubine, sheltered, cared for and treated with the utmost respect and deference. You would have a retinue of servants to look after you…”

He interrupted again.

“You jest?!”

“No, I do not, Mathew. May I continue?”

He inclined his pretty head slightly.

“But of course, Your Highness.”

“You would no longer live within one room. You would have your own apartments, which are connected to mine, and you would have access to mine at any time. Unless, I state otherwise, though I doubt there would be an any occasion where I would refuse you.”

She reached for the wine, refilled their glasses, and went on.

“You, as the Imperial Concubine, will have access to anywhere in the Palace. You may go wherever you please within it, it’s grounds etcetera. You will also have use of the coaches, carriages and horses if you wish to travel outside the Palace, though that sort of occasion will depend upon my express permission. You know as well as I, that there are ruthless beings out there, and you would be an easy target for them.”

“Ruthless being?”

“The highwaymen, my dear…”

“I see.”

“And, there are still those out there, who wish to eradicate your kind. So, therefore, you would need my permission to travel anywhere outside the Palace grounds. At times, I will send you to one of my family’s other estates.”

“Other estates? How many are there?”

“Besides the Imperial Palace, there are two others that we maintain. To be exact, there are ten estates in all, but we only go between the Palace and two others. Those would be Castle Duncannon, our original family seat, and the fortified Castle of Graves End. Castle Duncannon is four days journey to the south, and Graves End is two days journey east of the lower kingdom of Tarkaba.”

Mathew grinned.

“Graves End sounds delightful.”

Her brow furrowed.

“It isn’t meant to be. It’s a fortified castle. It is anything but, delightful.”

“How so?”

“I would only send you there, if I needed to hide you. To keep you well protected. It has been eighteen Annums since anyone from my family has had to make use of it. Still, I hope to never have need of it, or have need to hide you within its stone walls. It is a cold, unforgiving edifice, and to send you there…”

She broke off abruptly. 

“Your Highness?”

The Duchess shuddered.

Hesitated.

“To send you there, would mean only one thing…”

Again, she hesitated.

But, he knew.

For her to send him to such a place...to hide him…

The Purge.

Finally, she willed herself to continue.

“That is something I dread to even think of. Let us continue with the terms of the proposition,shall we?”

“By all means, Your Highness.”

She looked at him.

“My name, my dear, is Ivyanna. You, may call me, Ivy. “

He frowned slightly.

“I may call you by your birth name?”

She smiled.

“In private, you may.”

“In the presence of others…”

“My Lady will suffice.”

“Of course.” 

Neither spoke for several moments. The silence lingered for as long as it took to refill their glasses.

“And, the other terms?”

She reached over to lightly touch his hand.

“I believe you know what those are, my dear?”

“Mmm, I have an idea.” He murmured.

“Quite straightforward, really.”

“Indeed.”

He watched as her long slender fingers stroked his hand. When he finally looked up, her gaze was hot upon him.

He quivered.

Oh how he quivered.

And, she had seen it.

Ivyanna, the Imperial Grand Duchess, knew without a doubt, she had acquired what she came for.

He was her’s, and he knew it.

For without ever having said a word, but only by the mere visible quivering of his body, he had accepted her proposition.

Mathew belonged to her.

That left only one small detail…

Mathew smiled slowly, one eloquent eyebrow arched, his eyes sparkling at the thought of that detail.

It was the first time in a very long time, that he craved what he knew came next. 

She rose from her chair, took a final drink from her glass, and let her gaze wander to the large bed, before coming back to him. 

“Shall we consummate this union?”

He quivered at her words.

“Yes.” He murmured.

“Then come, my dear…” She held her hand out to him.

He stood and took her hand eagerly. She led him to the bed, pushed him onto the mattress, and mounted him quickly.

Mathew stared up at her in wonder.

She stared down into his wide eyes, a warm smile etched on her face.

“Tonight, I make you officially mine. My Concubine…”

Mathew sighed softly.

“Yours…”

Her fingers drifted lazily over his cheek. She placed one finger on his lips, smiling warmly.

“You wanted me to kiss you…”

Everything he was, would be, hung there...waiting...

His answer was a breathy moan of acquiescence.

Of total, and complete, submission. 

“Please…”

Duchess Ivyanna smiled down at her beautiful concubine. At her delicious god that lay beneath her…so gorgeous...

She leaned down and flickered her tongue at his parted lips. He made a soft whimpered plea, before she slammed her mouth over his, kissing him deeply, roughly, hungrily. He moaned heavily into her mouth, pushing himself up against her…

Mathew’s body thrummed with desire. 

He cried out softly as she pushed back against him, moving slowly, maddeningly slow. Oh how he ached! This burning ache that he hadn’t felt in so many Annums! He craved what she offered...hungered for something he thought he could no longer hunger for…

This Imperial offered him heaven and hell. Passion...pleasure and pain.

She tortured him now…

Such a sweet, delicious torture.

Mathew knew not when she had stripped each of them of their constricting garments. It was not until he felt her lips peppering his skin with hot kisses, did he finally realise he was exposed to her, and she to him.

He marvelled at the flawlessness of her skin. The blood red of her hair, made her skin look like pale, white porcelain...his hands were everywhere on her, touching, feeling, stroking...knowing.

He grunted as she moved on him, crushing him against the mattress. It was so familiar, yet so very different. Nothing seemed real at that moment, yet it was very much so.

She sank down on him slowly, gently. His head went back, hands gripping tangled sheets, and a soft, strangled moan escaped his parted lips. She was exquisitely warm, wet and tight around him...his body responded immediately to this sensation.

His moans rippled off the walls around them. His cries of pleasure permeated his entire being. He had never known this divinity before.

Tonight, she was in complete control of this pleasure.

Of him.

He worshipped from beneath her, his hands roaming over her skin, along her hips, her smooth back, everywhere he could reach. She was a goddess.

Their bodies moved insync...skin on skin...mouths teasing, tasting. A soft sheen of sweat covered each of them...they reached that trembling crescendo, that wave upon wave of orgasmic bliss. She dug her nails into the soft flesh of his chest, crying out his name feverishly.

And Mathew…

For the first time in many Annums, he felt…

He felt...even in his own moment of release...he felt…even in that moment of petite morte…

Alive.


End file.
